I got two emails and several texts today. The last email, the one I just opened, was a picture of my beautiful babe wearing her UNC Crew cap kayaking in Ha Long Bay. It reminded me of the picture I took of her when she was six and we were rafting down the Grand Canyon. Hair shorter in the first photo but the same look. Head thrown back, huge smile, a spirit of fun and excitement tossed casually at the camera. I could catch this easily through the digital projection she emailed. “Here I am kayaking” she said.
And here I was kayaking too but I didn’t send her a picture. Out on the Bogue Sound with my friend and the egrets, pelicans, ibis and mullets jumping and flying all around. Incredible that we are loving each other and doing the same activity. Is it possible that she is really so far away or that we are actually so far away from each other? It is. I know it.
Yet I also know that if she wants to, that right now she can take out the camera I gave her for her 20th birthday, (remember her birthday was two days after she left so she opened it early) and snap another picture that makes her feel so close I could reach out and touch that happy smile on her face and even kiss it. But then again when I try to, I’ll know that she’s not here, she’s still there. The photos and the emails and the texts almost make the missing a bit worse. As if the closeness of “Mom, I have a really itchy bug bite how did you know before I even told you. You are amazing Mom.” seems to upend the binoculars we are using to see each other end on end and make her even further away. I miss being with her.